Star Wars: Rebel Rising(66)
Jyn pressed her fingertips together against her thumb, forming a hard point with her fingers, reared back with all her strength, and jabbed her hand straight into the Caldanian’s wide left eye. He screamed in pain, dropping back. Jyn’s fingers were coated with sticky mucus, but the Caldanian was too distracted and in pain to fight. The Gigoran shouted as he raced toward her, but Jyn dropped to the ground, kicking out to trip the large furry creature while reaching for her knife in the other boot. When she jumped up, the Gigoran had already spun around to face her, and the Caldanian was standing again, his eye turning blue around the rim.
Jyn flashed her knife blade, shifting it from one hand to the other, hoping it would be enough to scare off her two attackers.
It wasn’t.
They rushed her simultaneously—clearly they’d fought together before—and Jyn slashed wide. She cut the Gigoran’s shirt and fur, but she didn’t see any dark blood splatter across his long white hairs. The Gigoran’s beady eyes narrowed, but Jyn didn’t have time to focus on him; the Caldanian had wrapped a slimy arm around her throat and started squeezing.
The Gigoran laughed at Jyn and pulled out a small blaster.
“We were just going to take your credits,” the Caldanian snarled in Jyn’s ear. “But you poked me in the eye. That was rude. Wasn’t it rude, Bunt?”
“Rude,” the Gigoran agreed.
Jyn didn’t bother replying. She shifted, and thinking that she was trying to escape, the Caldanian tightened his grip around her neck.
Jyn stabbed him in the arm.
The Caldanian let go, howling. The Gigoran, distracted by his friend’s injury, didn’t shift the blaster in time as Jyn lunged for him. Blaster fire scarred the resident cube behind Jyn as she slammed into the Gigoran. She wrapped her left hand in his long white fur, yanking hard enough to jerk his head around. She balled her other hand into a fist and slammed it into the Gigoran’s face, aiming for his beady eye. She felt her knuckles crunch against the Gigoran’s hard skull, but she punched him again, hoping to daze him. She grabbed his wrist, pressing hard and then slamming it against the pavement until the Gigoran’s fist opened and the blaster fell.
Jyn let go of the Gigoran and grabbed for the blaster. As soon as her hands were off him, the Gigoran kicked away, scooting down the alley. He made a run for the crowd, the Caldanian on his heels.
Jyn cursed under her breath. She had liked that knife, and it was still sticking out of the arm of that slimy Caldanian.
At least, she thought, I got a blaster out of the trade.
Jyn hid in a nearby bathroom stall and pulled out her credits, counting them one by one, just to be sure they weren’t gone. One hundred Imperial credits.
She noticed the Imperial cog on the front. She had thought Five Points station wasn’t under Imperial control—and she was mostly right, judging from the heavy presence of gambling halls. But she’d seen a flash of black-and-white armor on some street corners, especially in the center of the station, where the more elite lived. No one wanted to be near the walls.
In the end, it didn’t really matter. She couldn’t go to the Empire for help—that was obvious—but she doubted they cared about her, either. She was still an ant. At the attack on Skuhl, they had come for her, but they hadn’t known her last name. Just that she had ties to “terrorists.” Maybe Xosad had given them her name. Maybe Berk had, or someone else in town who just didn’t like her. It didn’t matter—what was important was that they had been after “Jyn, last name unknown.” Not Jyn Erso. And besides, now she was Tanith Ponta.
What would happen if she went back to her father? The Empire had killed her mother but just taken her father. He was their golden boy, and he seemed to relish that status. Could she be afforded the same luxuries he had been? Another apartment on Coruscant, another Mac-Vee, another chance?
Jyn shoved her hundred credits back in her pocket. Even without them, there was no way she was going back to him or that life. Not while she still wore her mother’s necklace.
One hundred credits. She had to make it last. But first: food. Jyn slipped out of the reeking public bathroom stall and headed deeper into the station. She clung to the outer perimeter of the main floor, where the shops were smaller but cheaper. A bodega built between two towers of residential cubes looked local enough not to extort her too badly. She bought a can of nutritive milk that was dusty on top and a tube of dehydrated vegetable protein straws. Not the tastiest but definitely the healthiest, most filling option; this would last her the whole day if she was careful. Food was important. Hunger would make her careless, an easy target. Food and sleep were vital to survival.
Ninety-four credits left. After jamming a bland protein straw in her mouth and choking it down with the slightly chunky nutritive milk, Jyn headed to the midrim of the station. The gambling halls went from flagrantly touristy to elite houses of decadence within just a few blocks. The games played were mostly the same on the ground floor of each hall. Sabacc, chance cubes, wheels of fate. Jyn ventured into a few of the halls, enticed by the promise of free liquor and meals, but it was quickly apparent that nothing in those places was free, and Jyn wasn’t willing to risk her credits on a chance. Especially since the gambling halls used their own specialized credit chips, and she was willing to bet the conversion rate wasn’t that great.
Still, she logged the gambling halls in the back of her mind. There was a way to make money there; she just had to figure it out.